Night In
by flowerpicture
Summary: Domestic Stendan having a night in together. Pure indulgent fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I'm a little concerned you're all going to find this boring, as nothing really happens in it. It's just domestic, fluffy Stendan – there's no plot or conflict *at all*. :/ But I needed to write it after the news this week and hopefully some of you will enjoy the simplicity of it, if nothing else. :-) **

"He's in his office," the new barman says - Ryan or Robert or something. Ste can't remember. The kid's only been here a little over a week; if he makes it past a month, Ste will make the effort to get to know him. For now he nods his appreciation and heads to Brendan's office, where he finds him sitting behind the desk staring intently at the accounts.

"Taking stock of our fortune?" Ste says teasingly, then instantly regrets it. It's far too soon to talk of "our" anything - they've only been together three weeks, and Brendan has a history of freaking out whenever Ste's alluded to any kind of long-term commitment.

But Brendan only smiles and closes the book. "Something like that. What are you doing here?" He glances at his watch. "We're not meeting for another two hours."

"I know, but -" Ste grimaces and approaches the desk, perches on the edge of it. "The babysitter cancelled. She's got the flu." Brendan's hand is resting on the closed accounts book and Ste squeezes it briefly before withdrawing. "I'm sorry - I know you were buzzing for this night out after how hard you've been working this week." He doesn't mention _why_ Brendan's been working so hard - to keep out of his dad's way - but he's pretty sure Brendan knows he understands.

Brendan stares at him for a long second, and then blinks. Technically this was supposed to be their first official date since getting back together, and he wonders if Brendan's thinking about that now. "It's fine," he says shortly. He gives a tight smile. "Another time."

"Yeah, maybe next week or - hey, why don't you take Cheryl tonight? I mean, you've got the reservations and everything. Might as well use them."

"Yeah, maybe," Brendan says vaguely, already shuffling around in the paperwork on his desk as if dismissing the conversation.

"All right, well..." Ste stands up and straightens his shirt. "Just don't sit in with your dad all night whatever you do."

Brendan nods at that, distracted, but says nothing.

"See you tomorrow?" Ste tries.

"Yeah." Brendan glances up and smiles. It looks less tight this time, but he still doesn't appear completely happy. "'Course."

"Okay, well I've gotta go pick the kids up from afterschool club so... see ya then." He turns to leave, makes it almost as far as the door before Brendan stops him.

"Hey," Brendan says, and walks over to him. Ste turns to face him. "Don't I even get a kiss?"

Ste grins and meets Brendan in the middle.

"All right, guys, you've got half an hour in front of the telly before bed," Ste says to the kids, clearing away what's left of the dinner dishes. He hadn't planned on eating at home tonight so all he'd had in were a few frozen chicken nuggets and some waffles. He really needs to go shopping before he accidentally starves his kids to death. God knows what he's going to eat himself later after the kids are in bed - probably order in a curry or something, or maybe he'll get lucky and find a packet of instant noodles in the back of one of the cupboards.

The thought depresses him. He's supposed to be on his way to a posh restaurant in Chester with his boyfriend right now.

His _boyfriend_.

Ste allows himself a fleeting grin at that, elbow-deep in washing up bubbles and trying not to daydream about Brendan.

There's a knock at the door and Ste dries off his hands before heading to the hall, looking in briefly on the kids to see them curled up on the couch watching Cartoon Network.

He opens the door to Brendan. In one hand he has a bottle of wine, and in the other a small stack of takeaway menus. He's still wearing his work suit and something about the moon lighting him from behind makes him look like a sexy movie star.

"Night in instead?" Brendan says, holding up the wine and menus as if in supplication.

Ste laughs gently, can't help himself, and steps aside to allow Brendan entry. Brendan drops a kiss on his lips as he passes and Ste closes the door behind him, something warm and pleasant coiling in his tummy. "You sure about this, Brendan?" he says, following Brendan into the kitchen. "I know you were looking forward to trying that new restaurant in Chester."

"With you." Brendan puts the wine and menus on the counter before turning, looping his arms around Ste's waist and pulling him in. "I was looking forward to trying that new restaurant with you. The restaurant can wait. It's not going anywhere."

Ste loves how Brendan's being so much more open with what he thinks and how he feels since they've got back together, and Ste rewards him with a long, deep kiss that leaves them both a little breathless.

"Okay," Brendan murmurs, tracing the tip of his nose against Ste's. "Let me just get out of this suit while you have a look through those menus and figure out what we're eating." He leaves Ste with a final kiss to his bottom lip and heads towards Ste's bedroom. He's got a set of casual clothes in there - tracksuit bottoms and comfy top - and Ste can't wait until he can open his drawers and cupboards and find Brendan's things everywhere, bits of him all around his home, firmly rooted in his space. The thought makes warmth bloom in his chest and with a wistful sigh, he picks up the menus and sifts through them. By the time Brendan returns, looking casual and insanely fuckable, Ste's made up his mind.

"Why don't I cook for us instead? I'm a bit sick of takeaways this week to be honest."

Brendan nods. "Sure, if you don't mind."

"'Course I don't mind." He pats Brendan's stomach. "Gotta keep my man fed, don't I?" he says with a grin that Brendan returns. "But I need to go to the shop quickly. I'll only be ten minutes."

"Get us another bottle of wine while you're there. Let me just -" He goes to head into the bedroom again, but Ste stops him with a hand around his wrist.

"Keep your money, Brendan. I can afford a bottle of wine."

Brendan has the grace to look a little sheepish, so of course Ste has to kiss him again.

"Right," Ste says, breaking away. "Where'd Lucas kick his shoes earlier?" He starts looking around before Brendan stops him.

"You don't need to drag the kids out with you, Stephen. I can watch them."

Ste pauses, considers. "You sure?"

Brendan rolls his eyes. "Just go."

"Right, well, I'll only be ten minutes like." He grabs his keys and wallet and heads out before he can think better of it.

By the time he's bought wine and cheese and garlic and tomatoes and everything else he needs for the pasta dish he has in mind, he's been gone twenty minutes and feeling more than a little guilty. This is Brendan's first time alone with the kids and Ste's kind of dumped him in it. He can only pray they've been well behaved and not scared Brendan away.

He gets home to find Brendan sat on the floor, back against the couch and long legs spread out before him, wrestling one of Leah's Barbie dolls into a pink dress and debating with Leah about the colour of shoes Barbie should be wearing. "Black shoes go with everything, and I like the straps on these ones," he's saying, to which Leah replies, "But she's got these pretty pink ones, look, and they match the dress."

"Uh," says Ste, kind of frozen in the entryway, shopping bag in hand.

Brendan looks up at him, startled. A hint of embarrassment crosses his face. "Didn't hear you come in." Lucas chooses that moment to hand Brendan Barbie's hairbrush.

"No, you carry on," Ste says, a smirk beginning to form on his face. "Don't let me interrupt."

He's in the process of organising the ingredients for dinner when he feels strong arms snake around his waist and a chin settle on his shoulder.

"Shut up," Brendan mutters into his ear.

Ste bites back a smile. "I didn't say anything."

"She's very persuasive, your Leah."

"Hmm." Ste pats Brendan's hands. "Your secret's safe with me, hard man."

Brendan grumbles something before dropping a light kiss onto Ste's neck and releasing him, moving to the side and leaning against the counter. "This all looks promising," he says, indicating the food Ste bought.

"It's gonna be lush," Ste agrees. He's never been particularly modest about his cooking skills. "But I need to get the kids in bed first. You wanna get one of those bottles open?"

He leaves Brendan looking for a bottle opener and herds the kids into their pyjamas and bed. By the time he's done, Brendan's watching Eastenders, glass of wine in hand.

"Make yourself comfortable," Ste says, rolling his eyes.

"I will." Brendan doesn't even look away from the screen. Ste had no idea he's a closet soap fan.

After Ste finds the glass of wine Brendan left for him on the side and takes a healthy sip, he gets to work making dinner. There's something deliciously domestic about this - him in his kitchen, making dinner for his boyfriend. Brendan watching the TV, at home in his space. It's perfect in its simplicity and Ste smiles to himself.

"Can I use this laptop for a minute?" Brendan calls after a while.

Ste has a quick mental run-through of everything he's used the laptop for in the past couple of days to ensure there won't be anything embarrassing on it, then says, "Yeah," as he tips penne pasta into boiling water.

A minute later, Brendan drifts past him wordlessly, and comes back clutching his credit card which he must have retrieved from his wallet left in his suit in Ste's bedroom.

Ste grins at him. "Doing a bit of online shopping?"

Brendan makes a vague noise of assent.

"Anything nice?"

Brendan says nothing to that and, intrigued, Ste joins him in the living room for a moment to see what's going on. He collapses on the sofa beside Brendan and looks at the screen.

"You're buying a sofa?"

"Yep," Brendan says vaguely, scrolling down the page.

Ste frowns. "Why?" The sofas in Brendan's place are perfectly fine in his opinion. He's certainly had some good times on them.

"Because I can't sit on this thing for the rest of my life."

Ste straightens at that and gives Brendan a sharp look. "What you on about?"

"You need a new suite, Stephen. This one's had it."

"No, you are not buying me furniture, Brendan," Ste says, and attempts to wrestle the laptop from Brendan's grip.

Brendan holds firm and looks at him. "Will you just let me do this?"

"No!"

"What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is - is - you are not buying me a sofa and that's that, right!"

"Look," Brendan says, completely calm in the face of Ste's point-blank refusal. "Consider it a late Christmas present for you and the kids."

"You already got us Christmas presents, Brendan, I'm not stupid. I'll buy my own sofa in a few months, okay?"

"But it's the January sales now, and I'm hardly breaking the bank. I can afford it now, you can't, so just -"

"I said no, right, so -"

"We're together, aren't we?" Brendan says suddenly, sharply, bringing Ste up short. Ste swallows and nods. "And you plan on having me over here a lot?"

"All the time, if I had my way," Ste says.

"Right, then think of my back. I'm not getting any younger, Stephen, and this sofa is a nightmare. You can't even have sex on this thing."

Ste blinks. "That's a good point, actually," he concedes.

"Isn't it just," Brendan says with a smirk. "What about this one?"

He's pointing at a squishy three-seater black leather sofa, two matching arm chairs. They look ridiculously comfortable and Ste stares at them longingly.

"Brendan..." he says weakly.

"This one it is then," Brendan says, a touch of triumph in his voice, and he clicks on the purchase button.

"You're such an idiot," Ste says, but he says it fondly and with a smile. "But that's it, right. No more splashing your cash on me. I'm not with you for your money, you know."

"Duly noted," Brendan murmurs, busy inputting the delivery and payment information. "I'll cancel that BMW order then."

"Brendan!"

Brendan winks at him, which is pretty much the sexiest thing Ste's ever seen, and he goes a bit weak at the knees despite not even standing up. Truth is, he gets a bit of a rush out of having such a powerful, wealthy, manly boyfriend. Turns him on a little if he's honest. There's nothing Brendan Brady can't do, and there's nothing he _won't_ do for him. It's a heady feeling.

"Right, I'll be burning the sauce if I don't get back to it. Just - don't buy anything else."

He serves up pasta and wine on the little table in the living room and Brendan surprises him by switching off the TV and turning the stereo on to something soft and romantic. Ste bites back the smile, doesn't want Brendan to feel awkward about his little snapshots of romanticism, and together they settle around the table to eat.

Brendan groans orgasmically around the first mouthful, sending a thrill down Ste's spine. "This is amazing," he says without reservation. "I knew there was a reason I fell for you."

The casual way in which he says it puts a lump of emotion in Ste's throat, but he swallows it down and takes his own first bite, knocking his knee against Brendan's beneath the table.

"Yeah, it's pretty good, that," he agrees. "Reckon I'm a keeper."

"Reckon you are," Brendan says with a smile, impaling more pasta on his fork. "Even if we ever split up, I'll just hire you as my personal chef."

"You'll be fucking me over the table in no time, Brendan, you know you can't resist me."

"That's embarrassingly true," Brendan concedes. "I'll just have to make sure we never split up then. That way you can't sue me for sexual harassment in the workplace."

Ste tries to keep his tone casual. "Never's a long time."

"Hmm," Brendan says, then shovels more pasta in his mouth and talks around it. "Hopefully."

Ste so wants to ask him if he means it, if he thinks of the future, if he intends to keep them together forever. They've not talked about it yet, not discussed their plans, commitment, exclusivity and the long-term. Ste wants the conversation so badly, despite it being so early in the relationship, but things are just a little perfect at the moment and he doesn't want to rock the boat. Knowing Brendan loves him for now is enough. The questions can come later.

Brendan washes up after dinner, which amazes Ste to no end, and then they sit together on the couch sharing a tub of cheap ice cream Ste found in the freezer. They don't feed each other - not even Ste is that sickeningly romantic - but they huddle close, something resembling _snuggling_, and watch the TV while they eat. It's quiet and blissful and Ste pretty much wants to stay in that bubble forever. Only he has other responsibilities.

"Right," he says, putting the empty ice cream tub on the floor and reaching for the laptop beside Brendan, "I need to do my Tesco shop before I forget. Got no food in for the kids and no time to go into town tomorrow."

"You get your food shopping delivered?"

"Not all the time." Ste settles back against Brendan, shifts a little until Brendan's arm drapes over his chest and pulls him in, then logs in to his Tesco account. "It's just more convenient sometimes and look, there's a delivery slot available first thing tomorrow."

"Amazing," Brendan deadpans, and then falls silent. Ste looks over at the TV to see what's caught his attention. Top Gear. Naturally.

It only takes him ten minutes to shop, after having all his regulars saved, and he wastes another minute or two adding things he knows Brendan likes. Because Brendan bought him a suite, which means he plans on being here a lot, and the least Ste can do is be accommodating with his food and drink.

"Digestives," Brendan says quietly in his ear, making Ste jump a little. "And some fresh orange juice."

"All right." Ste selects the products. "Anything else?"

"Hmm. You got any crisps, cereal -"

"Shreddies, cornflakes, Cheerios...?"

"Rice Crispies?" Brendan says, and Ste smirks secretly. "And cheese and onion crisps."

"Done."

"Thanks." There's a pause, and then: "Oh, don't forget -"

"Jam, got it already."

"Right," says Brendan. "Good."

"Do you like garlic potatoes?"

"I like garlic everything," Brendan says, tightening his arm around Ste for a moment. Ste knows they're both remembering their naughty morning not too many days ago.

"And a roast on Sundays? You Irish people have that, right?"

"Yes, Stephen, we Irish people have a roast on Sundays."

"I'll get a larger joint then... Carrots, broccoli..."

"No broccoli. I don't eat green vegetables."

"You'll eat your broccoli," Ste says, to which Brendan huffs. "Right, let me up a minute." Ste tries to tug away, but Brendan tightens his hold.

"Where you going?"

"Need to get my debit card to pay. I'll only be a sec."

"Use this," Brendan says, dropping his credit card on Ste's chest.

"Brendan, for god's sake -"

"Give me the cash tomorrow. Whatever. Just don't get up." Brendan brings his other arm around Ste then, properly holding him close.

Ste smiles despite himself and snuggles in. "Fine..."

After, once Brendan's put the laptop back on the table beside him and Ste's turned in Brendan's arms so he's lying frontways on his chest, Brendan's arms around him, they settle in to watch a film. It's not exactly the exciting night Brendan had planned - restaurant followed by a club - but he seems content enough so Ste doesn't worry about it, just enjoys the feel of Brendan tracing his fingers over the bare skin on his back where his T-shirt has ridden up, the subdued sound of Brendan's heartbeat in his ear, the way their breathing falls into a matching rhythm after a few minutes. Every now and then Brendan presses his lips to the top of Ste's head or his temple, as if he can't go very long without kissing him in some way, and Ste presses into it every time.

The whole evening is bliss.

But it all comes to an end entirely too soon when he suddenly finds himself in bed without any idea how he got there.

"You fell asleep," Brendan mutters from somewhere in the darkness. Ste squints and makes out his silhouette beside the bed.

"Oh," he says. "Sorry."

"It's fine, you're tired." Brendan brushes his hand through Ste's hair before tracing his thumb down his cheek, a soft smile just visible on his shadowed face.

"You're staying though?"

"Yeah, I'm just going to lock up and switch everything off."

"Okay," Ste says softly, not wanting to break the quiet spell that's fallen over them.

In the time it takes Brendan to lock up and switch off lights, Ste's woken up properly and suddenly he's not at all tired. But he lays there though, waiting, because bed is exactly where he wants to be right now, ready for Brendan's return.

Brendan slips into bed gently beside him, as if afraid of waking Ste again, and Ste waits until he's settled before rolling over and placing a hand on Brendan's chest, propping his head up on his other hand. "Hey," he says.

"Hey," Brendan responds, sounding a little startled. "Thought you'd gone back to sleep."

"Nope." Ste smiles. "In fact…" He moves his hand lower, trails it down Brendan's chest, his tummy, down to his hip and in the middle, cupping Brendan's hardening cock through his boxers. He rubs just a little, a hint of pressure, and delights in the subtle way Brendan rolls his hips into it. "You wanna?"

"I always wanna," Brendan says, and pulls Ste down into a hungry kiss.

Ste's still wearing most of his clothes, minus his shoes, but Brendan rolls him onto his back and divests him of trousers, T-shirt and boxers in no time, rids his own clothes while he's at it. Ste arches up and presses his chest against Brendan's, bare skin to bare skin, and wraps his arms so tightly around Brendan and pulls him in so closely, there's not a whisper of air between them.

They kiss for eternity, or what feels like it, and they don't move to grope or grab at each other. They just kiss and kiss and kiss, deeply and thoroughly, until Ste's dizzy with it, intoxicated, and Brendan's whole neck and chest is flushed with warmth.

Brendan breaks away eventually, but he doesn't go far – just raises his face enough to gaze into Ste's eyes, runs a thumb along his jawline.

They stare at each other in the darkness for a few moments, their breathing evening out, and then Brendan murmurs, quietly but with conviction, "You know I love you."

Ste smiles, presses his fingers into Brendan's hips. "I love you too."

They're pressed so tightly together than Ste can feel every breath Brendan takes, every heartbeat, every ripple of muscle and flesh. He feels surrounded by Brendan, consumed by him, overwhelmed and so in love he aches with it.

"Please," he whispers, and Brendan smiles, brushes Ste's hair off his forehead. His breath ghosts across Ste's lips when he speaks.

"I had a plan," he says, words rumbling through his chest and burning into Ste's skin. "You were gonna sit on my face"—he smirks, wickedly—"and then sit on my cock and ride me screaming until we both passed out." His face sobers, and he dips his head for a moment to brush his nose against Ste's temple. "But we'll save that for another time," he says, looking down into Ste's eyes again. "Now I want to stay like this, stay this close, and—" He stops, swallows, and suddenly Ste gets it.

"And make love to me?"

Brendan doesn't answer right away, but when he does, his gaze doesn't waver, firm in his desire. "Yeah."

"Please," Ste says again, pressing up into him. "Please make love to me, Brendan."

They've never done it, not what Ste would consider making love. They've fucked, they've had sex—rough, quick, slow, passionate, raw, desperate. All kinds of amazing sex. But making love is different. Making love is cherishing, worshiping, affection and care and emotion. Making love is everything Brendan Brady isn't.

Ste never before realised how much he wants it, craves it, desperate for Brendan to show how deeply he loves. And now it's on offer, and Ste's never been so in need of anything in his life.

A tiny whimper escapes Ste when the overwhelming need fills him suddenly and Brendan dips his head in an instant. "Shh," he says in the moment before he takes Ste's lips in another kiss, licks into his mouth, a languid, deep kiss, a slow exploration of everything Ste's offering him so eagerly. They kiss for an age, no hurry, no rush, and at some point their hips start rocking together, gently, undulating, cocks slip-sliding in the valleys created and flesh hardening.

Brendan breaks away to kiss Ste's forehead, across his eyebrow, his eyelids, his temple, cheek, jawline, throat—peppering small, soft kisses across his face and neck, pressing wordless love into his skin. Ste spreads his legs wider and tilts his hips up until Brendan's cock slips from the friction in Ste's groin to his entrance, sliding like silk between his cheeks, brushing over his hole on each pass and making him whimper. He wants Brendan inside him so badly he could cry with it.

Brendan licks up Ste's throat to his mouth and draws him into another kiss, a distraction, while he fumbles around on the dresser beside the bed until Ste hears the distinct _click_ of the lube bottle opening. Stilling the motions of his hips, Brendan then reaches down between them, still kissing Ste, still running the fingers of his other hand over Ste's jaw, his cheek, brushing the hair back from his face—touching him, always.

Brendan's finger circles Ste's hole and Ste pushes up into it, let's Brendan know it's okay, and soon that finger is pushing into him, so carefully, tenderly, allowing Ste to adjust. It's not long before a second joins it, a third, in and out at a steady pace and Ste's breathing harshly, his mouth gone slack against Brendan's, sweat breaking out over his chest, intense pleasure pulsing through his body in waves.

He almost feels detached from himself, the pleasure taking over, floating on a cloud of sensation while Brendan kisses his face and his neck and takes him higher, higher, until he's lost in it, delirious, clinging onto Brendan's back as if he needs the anchor.

When Brendan removes his fingers, the sensation doesn't go away, but Ste does drift back down to earth slowly, leisurely, ripples of ecstasy coursing through his body and making him tremble.

"You okay?" Brendan whispers softly, the vague sound of a packet opening somewhere nearby. Brendan sounds reverent, amazed, and when Ste manages to focus again, he sees something pure and thrilling radiating in Brendan's eyes.

"Yeah," he whispers back—or tries to. His throat's constricted, his chest vibrating with pleasure, his whole body singing with it. He doesn't know how Brendan did it, took him to that place, but he doesn't want to leave.

"You look incredible," Brendan says, and he sounds truly amazed, enthralled. "Beautiful," he adds, and then kisses Ste again, lines up his sheathed cock with Ste's relaxed and ready hole.

Ste would give anything to lose the condom, but that's a conversation for another day and all that matters now is that Brendan push inside him, fill him, complete him.

Brendan does, slowly, kissing Ste with slack lips and his breathing is ragged, Ste notices, his body is shaking just slightly. His skin feels burning hot to the touch and they're so lost in this moment, in each other, Ste wonders if this is what perfection looks like.

Then Brendan's in him firmly, fully, and he's moving, a slow glide in and out, in and out, deep and deeper and no rush, no speed—they will get there together, the desperation showing in a different form, in slack-jawed kisses and fingers firm against skin, in quick breathing and hot skin and trembles, shivers, sweat and heat and _love_, so much love it radiates, burns through Ste and makes him arch up, cry out, pull Brendan in closer and tighten his legs around Brendan's waist.

They rock together, a seamless rhythm, picking up speed only slightly when it becomes obvious they're both close. Then Brendan slows right down near the end, drags his cock in and out of Ste's entrance with exquisite care, then thrusts in deep, deeper, hits Ste just _there_ and he's coming, crying with it, moaning into Brendan's mouth and Brendan's not even moving anymore—just seated deep in him, letting it happen, the muscles of Ste's arse rippling around his cock and soon his hips start jerking and he drops his face into his Ste's neck and he's groaning, whimpering, noises Ste's never heard from him before.

Silence falls on them when it's over, trembling together, shivering as if cold but Ste's not cold, not at all—he's burning with it, with everything, and when Brendan lifts his face to kiss him, Ste draws him in and holds tight and prays he can have this for the rest of time.

"This is forever, isn't it?" he whispers against Brendan's lips, voicing his earlier thoughts—commitment for the future, a lifetime together.

"Forever," Brendan murmurs, running a hand down Ste's side. "Always."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I couldn't help it. Woke up with a scene in my head and decided to do another chapter of this random fic. Those of you who like the pointless fluff of Stendan sitting at home for the evening—have the same thing again! Haha. **

**Set a few weeks after the first chapter.**

Brendan approaches the subject casually over breakfast.

"Stephen's coming over this evening."

He doesn't look at her as he says it, shovels another spoonful of Rice Crispies in his mouth almost before he's finished the sentence. Cheryl understands. Things have been difficult for a couple of weeks, beginning with _that_ night, the night everything came crashing down with a confession and too much agony for any one person to process. For a week after, Brendan didn't seem to see Ste much, despite how often Ste turned up at the flat or the club. Avoidance. Denial. The inability to face it—the fact Ste knows, knows the truth, can picture what happened, how Brendan's own father—

Cheryl can't even begin to understand how it feels but she can imagine the difficulty Brendan had with facing his partner, knowing that whenever Ste looked at him, he saw it.

But then a few days ago, things started to change. Brendan went to Ste's flat and stayed for two nights, and then he came home lighter, a little brighter, still weighed down with the trauma of it all but freer somehow. Happier.

Tonight will be the first time Cheryl's really seen Ste since the night it all came out, the first time she's seen them together since Brendan bared his soul to them both.

It scares her, a little.

"Okay," she says, keeping her voice light. "Staying the night, is he?"

Brendan nods, just slightly, and goes a little red high up on his cheeks. It makes her smile and she pats his hand.

"I'll make myself scarce, love, don't worry."

"No," he says, looking up at her sharply. "You don't need to do that. It's nothing special."

"Still…"

"The kids have gone to their granddad's and it's either his place or here, and I've seen enough of his flat this week." He gives a tight smile. "It's just a takeaway and TV."

"Ever the romantic, eh, Bren."

"You know me, sis."

She thought she did. Turned out she hadn't known him at all. Even now, two weeks later, she can barely bring herself to think about it. And Brendan has been carrying it around all on his own for almost his entire life.

It's enough to destroy her, if she lets it in.

"So you're just hanging out?" At his nod, she adds, "All right, I'll be chipping in on the takeaway then, and I'll pick up some wine from Price Slice later."

He gives her another smile, and she can see the barely concealed relief in it. This isn't because he's afraid of being alone with Ste, she knows that—it's because he's desperate to claw back some normality, to set the world to rights again. And having the three of them spending an evening together under the same roof, where it's nothing but food and TV and regular conversation, is the beginning for him. The beginning of getting his future back.

It's the least she owes him.

She watches him later, in the moments before Ste's due to arrive. Outwardly he's calm, normal; inwardly, she can see, he's a bag of nerves. The last time the three of them shared the same space, in this very room, the truth came thundering down around them, and she knows they all must be thinking about it now. Ste must be, even if he's not here yet for Cheryl to see. Aside from her own brother, she's never known anyone to love as much as Ste does her Bren, and to find that out—

No. She can't think about it. It's enough to have it occupying her own mind without thinking about how it's likely taking over every waking thought Ste has as well. He must be strong. Stronger than her. Strong enough to carry Brendan through it.

It breaks her heart to know how happy they were before. She can only hope they find their way to that place again.

Ste taps lightly on the front door as Brendan's in the process of flicking through the channels repeatedly until she's almost going dizzy with it.

"I'll go," she says as Brendan goes to stand up. He gives her a mildly alarmed look but says nothing.

Ste looks good, of course—but then, he always does. Gorgeous, the pair of them. Enough to make anyone sick.

"Evening, love," she says before any awkwardness can set in, then she pulls him in for a kiss on the cheek and a half hug.

"Hiya." He gives her back a gentle pat before brushing past her to where Brendan's getting up off the couch. "Hey," he says, and leans up to press a quick kiss to Brendan's lips.

"Hey." Brendan takes the opportunity to brush Ste's hair behind his ear—not that he has any there, but that doesn't seem to stop him—then grabs the overnight bag Ste's carrying from his hand. "This is the stuff you're keeping here, yeah? Because I emptied a drawer…"

Ste tutts affectionately then shoots a grin over at Cheryl. "You hear that, Cheryl? He's moving me in already."

She doesn't know if he's deliberately trying to act normal or if he really does feel at ease, but either way he's lightening the mood and she's grateful for it.

"You wait, Ste, love, he'll have you up that aisle before you know it!"

"You reckon?" Ste smoothes a hand down Brendan's chest. "He'd look well fit in a wedding tux, wouldn't he?"

"Uh," says Brendan. "Are you forgetting about your current marriage to another man?"

Cheryl waves a hand. "Details," she says, and Ste nods.

"Pretty significant detail," says Brendan.

"'Ere, are you telling me if I weren't already married, _we'd_ be getting married?"

"Oh my god, is this a _proposal_?" Cheryl adds.

Brendan looks at Cheryl then at Ste then back again, exasperation written all over his face. "I am not having this conversation," he grumbles before walking off towards his bedroom, Ste's bag in hand.

Cheryl and Ste giggle to each other in his absence.

"I'm seeing a ring on your finger before the year's out, Ste," she says, taking his hand and waving his own finger at him. "And if you don't make me your Maid of Honour—"

"After your last attempt at planning a wedding?"

"Hey, that was a perfectly lovely wedding!"

Except for, you know, the tragic deaths and everything.

"A perfect waste of money," Ste says, rolling his eyes.

"Well, that's what hindsight's for." She tugs on his hand. "Come and get some wine, love. He'll be in there a while, lovingly arranging your socks."

Ste snorts. "More like he's dumped my bag on the floor somewhere and now he's sat on the bed sulking about us winding him up."

"Oh ye of little faith," Brendan says, emerging from the bedroom. He snakes an arm around Ste's waist and pulls him close—for no reason Cheryl can see. Just because. She tries not to draw imaginary hearts around their heads. "Are you opening that wine, Chez, or are we all dying of thirst?"

"Can't have that, can we?" She goes to the kitchen and grabs the wine, hunts down a bottle opener in the drawer. She can hear Brendan and Ste murmuring to each other in the living room but she can't make out the words; when she has a sneaky glance over her shoulder, it's to see them stood there in the middle of the room, foreheads pressed together, smiling at each other, Brendan's hands cradling Ste's face. They move in for a kiss and she looks away, opens the cupboard for glasses. Hums a tune to allow them a moment of privacy.

Smiles quietly to herself and swallows down the lump in her throat.

"Here we are, guys," she says before turning around, giving them chance to finish before she sees them. But they're still connected at the mouth when she steps into the living room and she has to clear her throat to get them to break apart.

"Sorry," Ste says sheepishly, taking a step back from Brendan.

Brendan clears his throat. "Sorry," he adds, and runs a thumb over his lips.

"No need to apologise," she says breezily, handing them both a glass. "Here's to, uh—"

"The future," Brendan says, giving Ste a swift smile. Ste practically beams in response.

"To new family," Cheryl adds. They clink glasses.

After dinner—pizza and messy chicken wings—they settle on the sofas, Cheryl on one and Ste and Brendan on the other. Brendan flicks on the TV again just in time for Eastenders and together they polish off the last of the wine.

Brendan and Ste are sitting together but they're not sitting close, and it bothers her a little, although it shouldn't. She looks at them out the corner of her eye from time to time, hoping to see some contact, some closeness, but it doesn't happen. She wonders if this is just their way—she can't ever remember seeing Brendan being particularly affectionate with Eileen either, but she supposes that's different. Brendan was never in love with Eileen, not like he should have been, nothing close to how he loves Ste. And she's seen Brendan show plenty of affection towards Ste in the time since they returned from Dublin.

But not now. Not when they need their normality so much.

But she needn't have worried. Eastenders finishes and Brendan finds a Top Gear repeat, but Ste's having none of it. They fight for the remote like kids until Cheryl leans over and snatches it from Brendan's outstretched hand, and by that point Ste's draped over Brendan's side and doesn't look to be moving.

"_I'll_ pick something to watch," she says, and Brendan wraps an arm around Ste's shoulders as he playfully sticks his tongue out at her.

A moment later Ste's hand comes up to hold Brendan's fingers loosely and all of a sudden everything is right in the world.

She finds America's Next Top Model and braces for the protests from the boys, but they say nothing. Ten minutes later, they're more absorbed in it than she is.

"Ste, love, have you ever thought about modelling?" she says, breaking the spell the show seems to have over the boys.

"Me?" He snorts. "I'm dead weird looking, me."

Brendan nudges him. "Shut up."

Ste looks up at him. "What?"

"You're not weird looking."

She can see Ste trying to conceal a grin. "What am I then?"

"Shut up," Brendan grunts again, a hint of red spreading up his neck.

Cheryl laughs. "What my dear brother is trying to say, Ste, love, is that he thinks you're gorgeous and sexy and perfect _just_ the way you are—"

"All right, Chez," Brendan grumbles. "Don't milk it."

"Aww," says Ste, beaming up at Brendan. "Thank you, darling."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," Brendan says sardonically, giving Ste a sneaky poke in the ribs Cheryl only sees by the way Ste jerks with it. "Now quit it, the both of you. I'm trying to watch this."

Ste tutts. "Closet queen, this one."

"You know he sings Lady Gaga in the shower?" Cheryl adds.

"Chez!"

"Oh, don't even try to deny it, Bren."

"I know anyway," Ste says with a laugh. "I've heard him. And the Spice Girls."

Brendan sighs, deep and longsuffering. Ste and Cheryl share a smirk.

"Think I'll go for a bath," Cheryl says a while later, and gets a grunt in response. She hands Ste the remote and heads upstairs, her mind pleasantly numb and free of any negativity. She knows it's only temporary, that getting over what happened will take weeks, months, forever, but this evening has served to put her at ease enough to move forward, to know they're all capable of putting it behind them, that one day in the not-too-distant future, Ste and Brendan will be a normal couple with no more secrets or baggage. That one day they'll be a family like any other.

It's a relief, if nothing else.

After her bath, she gets into her comfiest pyjamas and her biggest robe, ties her hair back and plasters on the expensive face cream Bren bought her in the sales a few weeks back. She tiptoes downstairs to find Brendan lying across the couch, one arm behind his head. His other hand is resting on Ste's head, thumb idly rubbing back and forth through his hair. Ste's draped all across him, head on Brendan's chest, hand curled in a fist in Brendan's shirt. Their legs are tangled together, shoes disappeared. The TV's quieter now, some old Al Pacino film playing.

She creeps around the couch to collect the empty glasses from the table, glances at the couple on the couch. Brendan's eyes rise to meet hers. He doesn't look at all embarrassed.

"He's fallen asleep," Cheryl whispers to him, nodding at Ste.

"I know." He says. His thumb doesn't stop stroking. "He finds it impossible to make it through a whole film."

Cheryl smiles fondly and resists the urge to ruffle the hair of the both of them.

"I'm awake," Ste grumbles suddenly, peeling his eyes open. "Just relaxed."

"You can sleep," Brendan murmurs soothingly to him, and makes a move as if he's about to kiss the top of Ste's head but thinks better of it. He settles instead for giving his head a firmer rub.

His phone beeps at that moment, lighting up from the table. Cheryl grabs it and hands it to him, and when Brendan reads the message, he sighs.

"It's Mitzeee. Something's kicked off at the club and the police have been called in. I'll have to go over there."

Ste starts sitting up, face adorably crumpled. He rubs his eyes and says, "You serious?"

"I'll go," Cheryl says, smiling at him. "Don't worry, love, you stay right there."

"No, you're already dressed for bed," Brendan says. He pushes himself up to sit and cracks his back. "I won't be long, all right?" He pulls Ste in for a quick kiss on his grumpy mouth before standing. "Go to bed if you want."

"No," Ste says on a sigh. "I'll wait up. Just hurry up."

"Quick as I can." Brendan slips on his shoes, swishes into his jacket, and swaggers out the door like the boss he is. Ste stares after him longingly.

"He's proper fit, in't he?" he says, probably to himself.

Cheryl snorts. "Objectively, yes, I can say he's a very handsome man. But I doubt we're having quite the same thoughts right now."

He gives her an embarrassed smile. "Sorry, I can't help myself sometimes." When she puts the glasses back on the table and sits beside him, he adds, "You know what? Sometimes I can't believe he picked _me_, you know?"

"What d'you mean, love?"

"He's just so…you know, he looks incredible, and he's so…powerful…"

She raises her eyebrows. "Would you like me to leave you alone with your thoughts?"

"Shuttup," he mumbles, even more embarrassed. "You know what I mean."

"Yes, but surely you realise by now how perfect you are to him. I know he's a man of few words, my brother, but he couldn't possibly love you any more, Ste."

"I know." He ducks his head like a bashful little boy. "He tells me sometimes, when he's feeling brave I suppose."

"There you go then. Don't go thinking you're not good enough for him." She nudges him with her elbow. "Quite the opposite, if you ask me."

"No," Ste says, and suddenly he looks painfully serious. Cheryl feels a rising sense of dread. "He—he deserves the best of everything, after—after—"

"Ste…"

"Cheryl, what happened with his dad. Your dad. What he did to Bren—"

"Don't, love," she says quietly, pleadingly. "Please."

"I just don't know if I can be what he needs," Ste whispers, an edge of desperation to his voice. "I don't know how to be _enough_."

Cheryl lets silence hang between them for a moment, but she can't avoid this. Ste has the right to vulnerability. And she realises now this is a worry he's been needing to voice since it all happened, and he's had no one. She's the only other person in the whole world who knows about it and she hadn't even called to ask how he's coping.

He's carried the whole thing on his shoulders, all alone. And it hadn't even crossed her mind to offer him her support, her reassurance, to ease some of the burden.

"Listen to me, love," she says now, and turns around so she can take both of his hands in hers. "You're _everything_ he needs, you hear me? Whatever you're doing now, however you're getting him through it, it's _working_. The man is happy, Ste. And after everything…that's an achievement. That's something to be proud of. And _you're_ doing that, do you understand? You're doing it. You're giving him exactly what he needs so don't ever think you're not enough. I won't hear it."

His smile is a little watery, but it's a smile nonetheless, and she pulls him into a hug. He clings to her tightly, almost violently, and she lets him. When she breaks away, she's wiping her own eyes.

"Right, well, I've got an appointment with a bar of chocolate and Dirty Dancing upstairs in bed, so—"

He perks up at that. "Dirty Dancing?"

She laughs. "You're a fan?"

"It's only my second favourite film. After The Notebook, of course."

"Of course," she responds sagely. "You wanna come up and watch it with me?"

"You sure?" he says, looking uncertain.

"Yeah, come on, we'll have our own snuggle time." She finds the remote and flicks off the TV. "I can't get a look in now that brother of mine hogs all the cuddles!"

Ste giggles as they stand, heading towards the stairs. "Sometimes I can't believe he's a cuddler, you know. I mean, he's Brendan Brady."

"The man's full of surprises, that's for sure."

Brendan doesn't arrive home for another hour, and by that time Ste and Cheryl are buried deep in Cheryl's bed, curled up together, sniffling a little while watching Johnny kiss Baby goodbye.

"Bren's home," Cheryl mutters, only half paying attention to the sounds downstairs.

"He'll be crashing around down there thinking I've run out on him," Ste says mildly.

Cheryl snorts a laugh. "Freaking out about how you don't love him anymore because you're not still sat on the couch where he left you."

It's ridiculous how silly her brother is sometimes.

Her bedroom door bangs open. The panic on Brendan's face is almost hilarious.

"Cheryl, do you know why Stephen left—oh."

"Hiya," Ste says, raising a hand in a weak wave, not moving from where he's buried in the blankets, head half resting on Cheryl's left boob.

"Everything all right at the club, love?" Cheryl asks.

"Uh." Brendan looks from his sister and boyfriend cuddled up in the bed, to the TV, then back to the bed. "Yeah, all sorted. Uh, Stephen, are you coming down, or…?"

"Watching the end of this," Ste mumbles, not taking his eyes off the TV. "Half an hour, promise."

Brendan looks perturbed and as if he doesn't know what to do with that emotion.

"Get in with us, love," Cheryl offers, trying not to laugh.

"No thanks. I'll see you down there, Stephen." Then he leaves, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Come on, Bren," Ste calls after him, albeit weakly.

"I draw the line at Patrick Swayze!" Brendan calls back, and Ste snorts.

"He thinks he's hot really. Admitted it to me once when he was drunk."

"Oh I know. One of the first things I learned after he came out."

They giggle together, then sober in time to watch Johnny make his sexy-as-hell triumphant return in time to pull Baby up onto the stage. Then they sigh wistfully together watching them dance.

Ste gives Cheryl a kiss goodnight before he leaves and she spends a few moments straightening her bed and brushing off stray bits of chocolate before they melt into the blanket. She's just fixing her hair back into a ponytail when she spots Ste's phone on her nightstand and thoughts of the kids and emergencies cross her mind, propelling her out of the bedroom and downstairs, phone in hand.

She comes to a stop outside Brendan's bedroom. His door is open a small crack and she can see inside enough to know she does _not_ want to go in there. Brendan has Ste shoved against the wardrobe, Ste's shirt unbuttoned and his jeans gaping open. Brendan's using one hand to hold both of Ste's above his head and he's busy sucking a bruise onto Ste's neck while Ste's head is tipped back, giving him access, eyes closed and lips slack, breathing harshly. She can't help but watch for a moment, frozen in absurd shock, as Brendan raises up long enough to plunder Ste's mouth with a kiss before releasing Ste's hands. It's as she's watching her brother drop to his knees that she jerks into action and slaps a hand over her eyes, rushes away from the door, a small embarrassed giggle escaping her.

She leaves Ste's phone on the kitchen counter and turns the sound right up, just in case. Then she goes to bed and leaves them to it, shoving in ear plugs as she goes.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: This is just a short one—a snack, if you will. I just needed a break from this other thing I'm writing and this pointless fic is always the perfect distraction lol. Set a few weeks after the last chapter.

Sometimes Brendan thinks he's going to wake up and find this has all been a dream. He can't have this—Brendan Brady doesn't get to have happiness on this level.

But happiness is what he has, impossibly, dampened somewhat by Lucas squirting water in his face.

"Nice," he says.

Lucas giggles.

Brendan wipes off the water with a towel and gives Lucas a quick retaliatory splash, making him laugh again. Somewhere outside the bathroom he can hear Steven cleaning up, banging dishes around and singing tunelessly. During a particularly shrieking rendition of the chorus, Brendan and Leah exchange a look and roll their eyes together.

Sometimes he thinks no one gets him like Leah. They're on the same wavelength.

"Right, time to wash your hair," he says to the kids, and reaches for the shampoo bottle and the jug. He'd stripped down to an old T-shirt before chucking the kids in the bath, because prior experience has taught him he will always end up wetter than the kids themselves. And true enough, the damp patch on his chest is making the T-shirt cling to his skin uncomfortably, giving him an itchy feeling. He ignores it, though, in favour of dumping a jug full of water on Leah's head. She comes out of it looking like a drowned puppy, blinking and sputtering.

"I did warn you," he says, smirking in the face of her glare.

"My turn, my turn," Lucas says, because for some weird reason the kid loves nothing more than being half drowned. He'd taken them both swimming a couple of weeks ago while Steven had been in Chester meeting with a new supplier, and during one wild moment of heart-clenching panic for Brendan, Lucas had torn off his arm bands and promptly sunk to the bottom of the pool—shallow end or not, the kid had disappeared, and Brendan's own life flashed before his eyes. It took only a second for Brendan to duck down and scoop Lucas up—coughing and laughing as if drowning was the most fun anyone can have on a Saturday afternoon—and he'd let the kid know in no uncertain terms how much of an eejit he was.

He's a weird one, that Lucas, and Brendan smiles at him indulgently in the second before he chucks water over his head. "There," he says. "You freak."

"Again!" says Lucas.

Leah, bored of waiting for Brendan to start shampooing her hair, starts drawing a heart on the side of the bath with a water pen. Brendan watches her quietly while he's rubbing shampoo onto Lucas' head, notes the careful way she writes the name "Ben" inside the heart. Her first crush, he assumes, and he makes a note to give Steven a heads-up.

"You doing all right in here?" says Steven, appearing in the doorway. "D'ya need clean towels or owt?"

Brendan nods, rinsing off Lucas' hair. "I put some in the dryer this afternoon. Just grab us a couple, please."

Steven disappears and returns a moment later with two fluffy warm towels. "Here y'are," he says, dropping them on the washing hamper. He catches sight of Leah's drawing. "Who's—"

Brendan shakes his head quickly, silencing him. Last thing Leah needs is the embarrassment. "Right, c'mon, Leah. You now. Water's getting cold."

Steven gives him a knowing look, eyebrows raised, but dutifully avoids raising the question of Leah's crush. He backs out of the bathroom, saying, "I've put the kids' jimjams out on their beds. I'll just make you a cuppa."

He'd rather have a beer but they haven't got any in, and neither of them could be bothered to go out to the shop today. He finishes the bath and gets the kids out, dried and in their pyjamas, then he tucks them both into Steven's bed—it's not a school night, which means they're allowed to watch a movie on Steven's bedroom TV before either he or Steven carry them into their own beds. Tonight it's _Tangled_, and he leaves them to it with a kiss on each forehead.

He gets to the kitchen to find a hot cup of tea on the side and he leans back against the counter, sipping contently and staring at nothing. Steven's nowhere to be seen, but he reappears a minute or two later carrying two old cardboard boxes.

"Just found these in the storage cupboard outside," he says, stacking them by the cooker. "I'm gonna make a start cleaning out some of the crap from me bedroom tonight once the kids are back in their own beds."

Brendan raises an eyebrow casually, takes another sip of tea. "Making room for something?" He holds his breath, although he doesn't let Steven know he's reacting to anything at all.

"No not really," Steven says, breezy as ever, filling the kettle again. "I've just been saying I'm gonna do it for ages. There's some of Noah's stuff in there, Doug's, Amy's…" He shrugs. "All needs to go, dun' it."

Brendan deflates, both relieved and disappointed. Relieved because Steven moving out his exes' belongings can only be a good thing; disappointed because…well. Steven still hasn't asked. Hasn't even looked as if he wants to ask.

And Brendan doesn't have it in him to be the one to suggest it. He's secure enough in his relationship with Steven but he still has that niggling self-doubt, that possibility of rejection, and he won't put himself in that situation yet. He's not ready. He'll wait. Wait for Steven to decide on his own it's what he wants.

To fill the spaces in this flat with Brendan's things. Permanently.

Until then… "C'mere," he murmurs, puts his cup down and tugs Steven into his arms. He comes to a stop between Brendan's legs and leans into him, smiling, hands on Brendan's chest. Brendan gives him a soft, lingering kiss on his lips before saying, "I'll give you a hand."

"Ain't you gotta be at the club?"

"Nope, Maxine's got some theme night on." He kisses him again. "And I'd get a lot—" Kiss. "—more pleasure—" Kiss. "—out of helping you get rid of Douglas' stuff."

"Oi," Steven says, but he's laughing into the next kiss, dragging his hands up Brendan's chest to hold his neck, thumbs tracing over Brendan's jawline as the kiss deepens. When they break the kiss, lips clinging in the final moment, Steven says, "So I've got you all night then?"

Brendan very nearly says _you've got me forever_ but just about manages to contain himself. Instead he makes a vague humming noise intended as agreement and licks his way into Steven's warm, inviting mouth.

Brendan's tea goes cold and forgotten.

::: ::: :::

"We should redecorate in here," Steven says, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the bedroom, stacks of half-sorted clothing around him. "I mean, I know the whole flat needs redecorating, but we should start in here. I've never bothered changing owt in this room before."

"Hmm," says Brendan. He's on the edge of the bed and doing battle with a giant pile of papers. Steven had told him to "save everything important, chuck everything else," and Brendan assumes he's meant to be a mind-reader or something because how is he supposed to know if a two-year-old electricity bill is important?

"What colour d'ya reckon?"

"Whatever you like, Steven." Who keeps leaflets for a sale a pet store had over a year ago? Has Steven ever even had a pet in this place? Seriously. "It's your bedroom."

"But I want you to choose."

Brendan sighs and looks up. "Uh…" He gives the walls a cursory glance. "Blue."

"Blue?" says Steven, wrinkling his nose. "Really?"

"Red then. I don't know. Whatever you like."

Steven stares at him for a long moment, expression blank. "Tell you what," he says. "I'll pick up some samples."

"You do that," says Brendan. Someone in this house at some point had subscribed to a mail order scented candles company. Brendan flips over the half-torn letter. Doug Carter. Obviously.

It goes in the bin, like almost everything he's found with that kid's name on it. Not that he's being immature about this.

He finds an old bank statement, dated just six months ago. Even then Steven was in the red. It makes his heart clench a little—Steven has always worked so hard to provide for his kids and make a good life for his family, and still he can barely keep his head above the water. Then people like himself do shitty things without morals to live like kings, and it does absolutely fuck all to keep his family together and his kids in his life. There's poetry in that, somewhere.

"How's the deli doing?" he says carefully, watching Ste shove a pair of woolly jumpers into a black bag.

"Er, why?"

Brendan shrugs. "Just wondering. It's doing all right, yeah? Giving you some profit?"

"Could be better, I s'pose. I'm surviving though."

"You done any advertising?" Brendan says. "Leaflets, the paper—"

"Oh yeah, I'll just magic up a marketing budget," Steven says, rolling his eyes. "Can't even afford help in the shop, Brendan."

It's not that the deli's a bad business—it's _good._ Great food, nice service, well-priced. But this is a small village and word of mouth only takes you to the village limits. People in nearby suburbs need to know there's a great place to go for lunch not ten minutes away.

But he won't push it now. He's in a position to help but Steven has his pride and it's a subject he'll broach another time, once he's worked out a reasonable argument as to why Steven should let him pay for some advertising.

Instead they talk about Ben, Leah's possible new crush, and Steven does his best to recall a Ben in Leah's class but nothing comes to mind, he says, although that doesn't mean he doesn't exist. "Maybe he's an older guy," he says, eyes twinkling.

Brendan smirks. "Then you and Leah'll have something in common."

"It's not like I've got a thing for older men, Brendan," Steven says, tutting. "So far you're the first person I've had who's older than me."

Brendan blinks. "So far?"

Steven laughs, giggles really, and turns innocent eyes up at Brendan from his position on the floor. "A young, good-looking guy like me needs to keep his options open."

"Is that so," Brendan growls. He tosses the papers to the side and slinks to his knees on the floor, crawls towards Steven. "You'll be keeping something open, all right."

"Brendan!" Steven says, mock-offended, but he's leaning back on his elbows anyway, legs parted, giving Brendan space to slide in and over him. "It's not like this is _forever_ or anything."

The little bastard. Brendan dips down and nips at Steven's bottom lip, licks across it. "Isn't it?"

Brendan presses down, pushes their hips together, their chests, slides his fingers into Steven's hair.

"Is it?" Steven murmurs in the instant before Brendan kisses him, long and deep, tongues entwining, Steven's hands low on his waist and gripping.

"You tell me," Brendan says against his mouth, and Steven's a little breathless, cheeks warming. Brendan can feel their hearts beating together.

"Brendan," Steven whispers, arching his back, rolling his hips up, "will you please just move in here?"

Brendan freezes, stops midway to dragging his tongue up Steven's neck, lifts his head and looks him in the eye. "What?"

"I don't know how many more hints I can give and I just—will you just think about it? I don't want you to freak out, right, I just want-"

"You've been giving hints?" Brendan interrupts smoothly. And he's pretty sure Steven must feel the rapid increase of his heart.

"Well…yeah. I ask you to stay every night, dun' I? I'm clearing everything out to make space for you…" He lifts a hand and rubs a thumb along Brendan's cheek. "I said we should redecorate, make it our own—"

Hints? Gone right over Brendan's head. He's resisting the urge to scoop Steven up and crush him to death, because not only would that be counterproductive, it also wouldn't give Brendan the chance to respond—and Steven so clearly needs a response. He's licking his lips nervously, eyes darting from one of Brendan's to the other, desperately trying to read him. And that nervousness has him running off at the mouth again…

"I know this stuff scares you," he's saying in a rush. "And I'm not trying to rush you or anything. I'm not saying you have to do anything right now. I just—I really like having you here and I wouldn't mind—wouldn't mind making it—what?" he says, as Brendan smiles at him.

"Steven." Brendan brushes Steven's hair off his forehead, cradles his face in his hands. "I moved in here weeks ago. I just didn't tell you." He huffs a laugh. "When was the last time I spent the night at Cheryl's?"

Steven's eyebrows crease in the middle. "So why didn't you—"

"I wanted you to decide for yourself. I didn't want to rush you," he says, and grins at the irony. "I was waiting…you know. For you to want to make it…official, I guess."

Steven takes a moment to process it, then his face splits in that blinding, sunshine-rivalling grin of his. "So you'll bring all your stuff over tomorrow then?"

"Yeah," Brendan says, a bit gruffly. He dips his head down, says a millimetre from Steven's lips, "Yeah I will."

He's pretty sure one of Doug's old jumpers pays witness to some vividly wicked things in the hour that follows.


End file.
